Unexpected Events
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: As if Dementors and mass murderers weren't enough, Harry must face life altering events, uncovering the secret of a family he always wanted, who will take the journey with him and do what must be done in "Unexpected Events". Rated M for later Slash.
1. Prologue: How Things Changed in 1977

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**- There are a few things I want to say before you start reading this story. After the Prologue, you will start to notice a good deal of "copying" from the HP books, which of course, I did not write. JK Rowling did. This story is based off of the concept shown in this Prologue, in which James and Severus were married, and through Lily as a surrogate, they had Harry. I am using that as a base, and from that point forward, I am more or less editing the existing story to suit my design. At the beginning, which starts midway through Chapter 5 (The Dementor) in Prisoner of Azkaban, you'll only see minor changes with a few inserted, original scenes. The further along I get, the more chapters will merge, and the more of MY work and less of ROWLING'S work will be shown. It is my intention to follow this through Half Blood Prince, at which time the War will be resolved (though different than the books), and Harry gets a different 'happily ever after' (because I'm a sap!). I'm saying this NOW so that I don't get flames saying "you're just copying the book!" ...because I know I am, for now, but I PROMISE it will slowly but surely became a whole different story, based off of the Harry Potter books, which, I have to point out, is exactly what fan fiction is. **

**Parings to expect in the course of the story - Past James/Severus, Remus/Severus, Harry/Hermione, Ron/OC. If you don't like it, don't read it. **

**Last note - I am really enjoying writing this, so even if I get flames galore, I'll probably keep writing. ALL THE SAME...I really, really, LOVE review! So read, and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Prologue: How Things Changed in 1977**

1977 –

Severus Snape stepped off of Hogwarts Express with a small smile. This year, his seventh year, was going to be different. No more being tormented by James Potter…well, not like it used to be. Over this last summer, the two had made peace. Two years ago, after he'd called Lily the "M" word, he's thought she would never speak to him again. She agreed to give him another chance, if and when he became friends with James Potter. Severus was pretty sure that she never expected him to actually follow through and do the damned thing, but he did, somehow, and Lily had stuck to her word. Now, the worst day of his life had turned around and gotten him his best friend back, as well as a new friend in James.

Granted, it was still torment, because Severus had, like many before him, fallen to James' charm. He, Severus Snape, a Slytherin of the mighty Prince line, he who could talk to snakes like the great Salazar himself, was in love with the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Well, the talking to snakes part no one knew, not even James. After the Chamber of Secrets had been opened when his mum was a student here, speaking Parseltongue was less than a desirable trait, and he kept it to himself.

"Hey, Snape!" a voice called.

Severus grinned. For the first time in seven years of knowing the boy, James Potter was calling his name, and it was not in an unpleasant way. "I thought we agreed to use first names from now on," Severus replied. They'd not spoken directly at all this summer, only written letter after letter.

"Oh, right," James said. "Sorry then, Severus. Glad the hols are over?"

Severus shrugged. Being at Hogwarts was better than being at home, even when he was being tormented by the Marauders. This year was going to be excellent. "Yea," he said. "I feel bad for my mum though, stuck there all the time with _him_."

James nodded, knowing exactly who Severus was referring to. '_Him_' was Tobias Snape, Severus' drunken and abusive father. In the course of the summer, James had learned a lot about Severus, and in retrospect, he wished he'd known all that sooner. If he'd known what Severus had to put up with at home, he'd never have given him such a hard time here at school. Even if he did fancy Lily.

Lily. Now there was an oddity. James had fancied her since first year, but over the summer, it had kind of faded away. Not that he didn't still have a soft spot for the girl, but over the summer his tastes had taken an interesting turn toward males…one particular Slytherin male. And James was almost certain the feeling was mutual.

"Hey, Severus, come over here," James said, pulling Severus off the platform and away from the crowds. "I want to say something to you, and if you hate me after, that's okay, but I'd really rather that if you – er – get mad at me for saying what I'm gunna say, that you just forget I said it and we go on being friends anyhow."

Severus raised his eyebrow, and crossed his arms, carefully placing his left hand on his wand, just in case James was about to transform back to…Potter. Severus hoped not, but one summer of letters was not enough to build complete trust in the Gryffindor. "What is it?" he asked.

"I…er…" James took a deep breath, and in a flash he pressed his lips to Severus' for a few seconds and then backed off. "I fancy you, Severus. And I think you fancy me too."

Severus blinked. Had James Potter just kissed him? He licked his lips. Yup, there was defiantly a foreign taste there. "James…" Severus began.

"Look, like I said, if I'm wrong, I'd rather we just forgot this and go on as friends…" James blabbered, a deep blush creeping over his cheeks.

Oh, how he'd hoped this might happened, but he never dreamed James would move so quickly. Granted, if he'd fallen in love with James over the summer, perhaps it wasn't too far fetched to think James had fallen for him as well. But then there was still Lily. "But what about Lily?"

James crossed his arms. "I still fancy her, sure, but not like you. Besides, she doesn't like me one bit. I think she fancies you more."

"Tough luck for her," Severus shrugged. "Because I fancy you. She's my friend, that's all. I think she took to Black over the summer, actually."

"Sirius?" James laughed. "Lucky bloke. She's the one thing we've ever fought over. It's perfect! You and me, and Lily and Sirius. Now we just have to hook up Remy and Pete."

"Not with each other, I hope!" Severus laughed.

James grinned. "No. Not even an option. Peter is straight. Remus on the other hand…I'm pretty sure he's a queer."

Severus gave a mock insulted look. "So are you, James Potter."

"Nah," James denied. "I'm bisexual. And since you said you did fancy Lily at one point or another, you are too."

"Yea, I guess so," Severus said. This was going to be a great year.

* * *

Severus and James managed to keep their growing relationship a secret for two whole months before Lily caught on.

"So, Severus," Lily said, catching up to him in the hall after Potions. "What's with you and Potter? I know you said you guys made peace, but it almost seems like you…like each other now."

Severus shrugged. "We do like each other."

"Like, as in friends, or like, as in…"

"Yup," Severus said, grin unavoidably forming on his face.

"Since when?" Lily whispered.

"Since start of term," Severus admitted. "He kissed me at the train station."

Lily looked stunned. "So, you and James Potter are dating?"

Severus crossed his arms, looking awkwardly at his friend. "You don't mind, do you?"

Lily laughed. "No. At least he'll lay off of me. And hey, you're happy! That's what's important. However, if he ever hurts you, takes advantage of your feelings, I will hex him to after graduation."

"Oh don't do that!" the dark haired James rushed up behind them. "I'll miss our wedding."

Lily dropped the stack of books she'd been carrying. "What?"

Severus smiled. "James asked me to marry him last night."

"And you said yes," James grinned.

"I did."

James bent to help Lily pick up her things. "I turn seventeen next week, When Severus turns seventeen in January, we're going to elope the next weekend. We'll have a big ceremony and all later, probably right after graduating."

"Am I invited?" Lily asked.

"Yea, we want you and Sirius to witness the bonding for us, if you don't mind, and then of course you'll all be at the big sha-bang," James said.

Lily shook her head. She'd only suspected Severus had a crush on James. She had no idea they were involved, let alone engaged. Sirius…oh, sweet Merlin. "Does Sirius even know about you guys?"

James looked a little guilty. "Uh, no. He and Sev'rus still aren't getting along that well. I was hoping he'd buck up, but it looks like I'll have to talk to him a little more firmly."

"We will. This weekend." Severus said with determination.

James nodded in agreement. Lily guessed, and guessed right, that they'd already agreed to this sit down with Sirius.

* * *

Sirius Black was in bliss. For some unknown reason, his best mate, James, had totally lost interest in Lily Evens over the summer, which meant that she was fair game. The two had been dating for a few weeks now, and Sirius fully intended on asking her to marry him. He was planning on a Valentine's Day proposal, in February. No, that wouldn't be too soon.

Sirius heard a shuffle of feet behind him, and turned to see James and Snape – who had for some reason become James' friend over the summer – coming toward where he was sitting near the lake. "What's up James? Snape?"

"Call him 'Severus', Sirius," James said, arms crossed.

"Okay!" Sirius snapped. "What's up, Severus, then."

"We want to talk to you," James said. "About us."

"Us?" Sirius asked. Then, he looked at James, who was holding Sna – er – Severus' hand tightly. And he was smiling.

"Me and Severus," James clarified, though he really didn't need to bother at the point. Sirius got the picture, loud and clear.

Had anyone asked him last year how he would feel about his best mate shagging Severus Snape, Sirius imagined that he might have threatened to hex the both of them, and then done so unless they'd told him it was a joke, very quickly.

Today, however, after realizing that the look on his face was probably hysterical at the moment, he just laughed. Maybe it was because he'd only ever given Snape a hard time because James did. Maybe it was Lily's good influence rubbing off on him. Maybe it was just such a funny thought that there was no room for anger or feelings of being betrayed. After all, they were nearly of age. It was time for them to grow up.

"Bloody fuckin' awesome," Sirius said, laughing loudly. "That's just beautiful!"

Having no idea if Sirius Black had just totally lost his mind, James and Severus just stood there, very perplexed looks on their faces.

* * *

It was _the day_. Today, the first weekend in January 1978, after only three months of friendship and three months of dating, a month of that being engaged, Severus Snape and James Potter were bonding. Lily would normally call this rushing, but she'd never seen either of them that happy, and somehow, she knew it would be a forever thing.

"Severus, James, I want to give you your wedding present now," she said.

The newly-weds walked over to where she was sitting, and smiled at her. "Okay, what is it?" James said, looking excited.

"After graduation, and only AFTER graduation, for your wedding present, I am offering to mother a child for the two of you. You're both the last of your lines, and you need an heir. I don't know if you've talked about having kids or not, but so far as your first born goes, I want to be the mum."

"Using the Bihomonetic Potion?" Severus asked his favorite Potions partner.

Lily smiled. "Yes. And James, that means that the baby would have all three of our DNA. You wouldn't have to decide between the two of you who would be the biological father. You both would be."

James was speechless. The whole family thing had been his one regret in being with Severus, because he didn't know how two men could reproduce. Thank Merlin for his brilliant mate and his best friend. "Thank you, Lily. That means the world to me."

"And me," Severus agreed. "We'll have to discuss how soon after graduating we want a kid."

James nodded. "Yea, there is a war on."

* * *

Almost exactly two and half years after Severus and James had bonded, Lily Evans had given birth to Harold James Potter. Harold was Severus' grandfather's name, on the Prince side of the family. They'd decided to use the surname 'Potter', after the War had taken a turn for the worse, and Severus had agreed to take a spying position for the Order. James had strongly objected, but considering that their son was quite possibly the child of the Prophesy, Severus felt it was his duty to give Harry every advantage possible.

Harry was now four months old, and his biological mother was now married to Sirius Black, and had recently announced that they were expecting their first child together. And then, it happened.

Severus opened the door to his and James' small home, Lily Black in tow. "James!"

James came around the corner, Harry on one hip and their House Elf's new offspring, a male called Dobby, on the other. Severus couldn't suppress a chuckle. "James, you look ridiculous."

James shrugged. "Hey Lily, where's Sirius?"

Lily looked as if she'd been crying. "Albus has more or less forced you and me to go into hiding. The Dark Lord is rumored to be after you and I, and Harry. Albus sent Sirius on another mission, and Severus…"

"I am to take up the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts," Severus interjected, placing a hand on Lily's shoulder. "Professor Warrick was murdered last night."

James frowned. Severus knew he hated the idea of being separated from Severus, but he would put on a good face. "When? Where?"

"You and Lily are to move to Godric's Hollow tonight, with Harry," Severus replied. "Albus says it's too risky to use Sirius as secret keeper, between all the missions he's on, and Merlin forbid, if the Dark Lord were to find out Lily and Sirius are married. I'd suggest Remus or Peter instead."

"Why not you?" James demanded.

"Because I'm a bloody spy and have yet to master Occlumency, James Potter," Severus snapped. "It would be beyond foolish for me to do it."

James sighed. "Peter then, I suppose. I love Remus, but who knows what might happen when he turns? He could betray the secret without even knowing."

Severus nodded. He had figured James would pick Peter. The boy was quiet, never got much attention from anyone, let alone the Dark Lord. No one would suspect he was secret keeper, especially since he rarely came around anymore. They'd, in a lot of ways, grown apart since graduating, though no one doubted that Peter would always be their friend. Even Severus had grown some what fond of the small man over the last couple of years.

"Why not one of my friends?" Lily demanded. She'd never liked Peter, and was loathe to trust him with the lives of herself, her best friend's husband, and her son and unborn child. She wouldn't trust Peter with a House Elf's life, for that matter.

"Lily, aside from Severus, all your close friends are girls, and everyone knows a guy is more likely to hold out under an Unforgivable," James said.

"Oh, and Peter Pettigrew is so tough!"

James looked to Severus for help.

"Lily, this whole thing is probably no big deal anyway," Severus said. "Albus says it's only a matter of months before the Dark Lord is finished."

This was, unfortunately, a total and complete lie. Albus had really said that things were getting worse, which is why he'd agreed to send his family into hiding. But Lily, who never went to Order meetings, didn't know this. And she didn't have to.

* * *

James and Lily had been in Godric's Hollow for eight months now. It had been hard to be all cooped up, despite the fact that the manor was rather roomy, but today was harder than most. This morning, Lily had given birth to a beautiful baby girl – Sela Rosanne Black. In a few hours, Remus and Severus would arrive to take her away. Recent intelligence said that the Dark Lord was hot on James and Lily's tail, and no matter how much it hurt her, she wanted her daughter somewhere else. Somewhere safer.

Sirius was on another mission, and didn't even know his daughter had been born. Lily was upset with him for how much he offered to go on missions – she knew he was out for thrills and glory, while leaving his family under someone else's care. Lily named Remus to be Sela's godfather, and until things were safer, she was sending Remus and Sela to France to hide. Lily's best friend, Alice Longbottom, was secret keeper.

"Hello Severus, Remus," Lily said quietly. "Thank you for coming."

Severus grabbed Lily into a quick hug, and then left her and Remus to talk. He wanted to see James. In nearly three years of marriage, they'd been separated for almost a year of it. Damn Dark Lord.

"Severus."

James' voice sounded sad and tired, but Severus new the tone of relief in his partner's voice well. "James," he said, pulling the shorter man into a warm embrace, followed by a tender kiss. "I've miss you, and Harry."

"I hate that you're missing Harry's life," James sighed. "If this bloody war keeps up much longer he'll be at Hogwarts before you get to know him at all."

Severus laughed. "Merlin forbid! James, if this war keeps up much longer, I'll stop spying, I'll come into hiding with you. You are more important."

"You promise?" James said.

"Of course," Severus said, touching his lover's cheek. "You're not going anywhere. As long as I can stay in one piece, we'll be a proper family soon enough."


	2. Chapter 1: Mixed Up Kind of Feelings

**Chapter 1: Mixed Up Kind of Feelings**

Harry Potter walked down the corridor of the Hogwarts express. Running and jumping onto the train as it started to move seemed like the most appropriate way to end his rather odd summer, though he hadn't planned it.

He certainly hadn't planned on having to do most of his holiday homework in the dead of night when the Dursley's were sleeping, or accidentally blow up Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, so that she floated away and had to be fixed up by the Ministry, and then of course, have her memory modified. Harry was actually surprised to find that modifying memories was as common as it was. He knew that Professor Lockheart, the Defense teacher last year, had been (prior to erasing his entire memory via Ron's backfiring wand) quite the expert on Memory Charms, though he had used them for self gain, while the Ministry officials only used them to modify Muggle memories, to reduce the amount of Muggle Exposure to the Wizarding World.

After blowing up Aunt Marge, Harry had taken off, and then via the Knight Bus (which was an adventure), he had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. He'd been greeted there by the Minister of Magic himself, who told him that despite blowing up his Aunt, there'd be no punishment, and 'oh – by-the-way, stay at the Leaky Cauldron because there's been a break out of Azkaban and mass murderer Sirius Black is on the loose and likely to kill people'. Harry found that he was more frightened by the big black dog he'd seen just before getting on the Knight Bus than he was of this Sirius Black. Black was, for once, not his problem.

On the other hand, after what Mr. Weasley had just said to him about promising not to go looking for Black, Harry was seriously rethinking his assumption that Black had nothing to do with him. Was it more than just the fact that Black was a supporter of Voldemort that had him breaking out of prison and out Harry-Hunting? (At this thought, Harry grimaced, thinking that Sirius Black and his cousin Dudley aught to get together and compare notes, if they both so enjoyed 'Harry-Hunting'.)

After three weeks on his own at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was on his way back to Hogwarts. He caught up to Ron and Hermione further down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment. All were full except for the one at the very end of the train. This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window.

The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart. The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed, fiddling with his new wand as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," whispered Hermione at once, placing the carrier with her new cat, Crookshanks, on the seat.

"How d'you know that?"

"It's on his case," she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling

letters.

"Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already had two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, both of whom had lasted only one year. There were rumors that the job was jinxed.

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he?" Anyway . . ." He turned to Harry. "What was dad talking to you about?"

Harry explained all about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's argument and the warning Mr. Weasley had just given him. When he'd finished, Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry . . . you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, Harry —"

"I don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."

"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily.

They were taking the news worse than Harry had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was. "No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," said Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said Hermione earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too. . . ."

* * *

It was September the first, and Severus Snape was more irritable today than he had been previous years at the start of term. Dumbledore had blamed his mood on the currently residing dementors around the castle, but Severus suspected the Headmaster was well aware of his real reason.

Remus Lupin. The dratted, werewolf friend of James Potter was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Not only was Potter's dear friend, and therefore, Severus' advisory, teaching here this year – which was bothersome enough – but he was teaching the position that, like every damn year, Severus had applied for. Fury, was the emotion.

To make matters worse, since he'd heard that Lupin was going to be teaching, two weeks ago, he'd been having the most bizarre dreams in which, Merlin knows why, he was making love to James Potter. Severus would admit to himself (though no one else) that he'd always found James Potter attractive, though considering Potter had made his life a living hell, nothing did, or ever could have come of it; especially since Potter obviously didn't swing that way – if he'd ended up with Lily.

Somehow, the dreams had made him feel a little less stressed about seeing Potter's spawn this year, which Severus found to be an odd reaction. What Severus wanted to feel was even more hatful of young Harry, because he was the product of his best friend and the guy (though he'd never admit it) he'd had a crush on. However, what he did feel was a sense of _if only_. If only, in another life, James had been less of a prick, maybe they would have gotten together, and maybe, just maybe, Lily would have agreed to surrogate a child for them, and then, perhaps, Harry might have been his son.

Severus shook his head. He was not remotely sentimental! What in Merlin's Balls was he thinking? The softened look on his face faded, and was replaced by his usual scowl.

"Severus!"

The scowl deepened at the sound of Minerva's voice, which Severus knew, meant he was about to be recruited to help set up the Great Hall for the new arrivals, due to arrive in only a few hours. Oh, what he would give to be somewhere else…someone else, for that matter.

* * *

"What's that noise?" said Ron suddenly.

A faint, tinny sort of whistle was coming from somewhere. They looked all around the compartment in which they'd sat during the ride, speaking softly as not to disturb the still sleeping Professor Lupin.

"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," said Ron, standing up and reaching into the luggage rack. A moment later he had pulled the Pocket Sneakoscope out from between Harry's robes. It was spinning very fast in the palm of Ron's hand and glowing brilliantly.

"Is that a Sneakoscope?" said Hermione interestedly, standing up for a better look.

"Yeah . . . mind you, it's a very cheap one," Ron said. "It went haywire just as I was tying it to Errol's leg to send it to Harry."

"Were you doing anything untrustworthy at the time?" said Hermione shrewdly.

"No! Well . . . I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. You know he's not really up to long journeys . . . but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Stick it back in the trunk," Harry advised as the Sneakoscope whistled piercingly, "or it'll wake him up."

He nodded toward Professor Lupin. Ron stuffed the Sneakoscope into a particularly horrible pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, which deadened the sound, then closed the lid of the trunk on it.

"We could get it checked in Hogsmeade," said Ron, sitting back down. "They sell that sort of thing in Dervish and Banges, magical instruments and stuff. Fred and George told me."

"Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain —"

"Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?" said Hermione.

"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got everything. . . . Pepper Imps — they make you smoke at the mouth — and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next —"

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in

Britain —"

"— and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked around at Harry. "Won't it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?"

" 'Spect it will," said Harry heavily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What d'you mean?" said Ron.

"I can't go. The Dursleys didn't sign my permission form, and Fudge wouldn't either."

Ron looked horrified.

"You're not allowed to come? But — no way — McGonagall or someone will give you permission —"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, was very strict.

"— or we can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle —"

"Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "I don't think Harry should be sneaking out of school with Black on the loose —"

"Yeah, I expect that's what McGonagall will say when I ask for permission," said Harry bitterly.

Professor Lupin was still fast asleep. The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, Professor Lupin slept.

"We must be nearly there," said Ron, leaning forward to look past Professor Lupin at the now completely black window. The words had hardly left him when the train started to slow down.

"Great," said Ron, getting up and walking carefully past Professor Lupin to try and see outside. "I'm starving. I want to get to the feast. . . ."

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?" The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Harry, who was nearest the door, got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments. The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" said Ron' s voice from behind Harry.

"Ouch!" gasped Hermione. "Ron, that was my foot!"

Harry felt his way back to his seat. "D'you think we've broken down?"

"Dunno . . ."

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out.

"There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard. . . ."

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly.

Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. Harry could hear movements in his corner. None of them spoke. There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him.

But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lupin's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water. . . .

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart. . . .

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder . . .

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't . . . a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him —

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?" Someone was slapping his face.

"W — what?" Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking — the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto his seat.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking quickly toward the door. The hooded creature had vanished.

"What happened? Where's that — that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. "But I heard screaming —"

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

"Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help."

Harry took the chocolate but didn't eat it. "What was that thing?" he asked Lupin.

"A dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to the others. "One of the dementors of Azkaban."

They stared at him. Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket.

"Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to check on someone, excuse me . . ." He strolled past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" said Hermione, watching Harry anxiously.

"I don't get it. . . . What happened?" said Harry, wiping more sweat off his face.

"Well — that thing — the dementor — stood there and looked around (I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face) — and you — you —"

"I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away. . . ."

Harry didn't understand. He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had?

Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know. . . ."

Harry took a bite and to his great surprise felt warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," said Professor Lupin.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry didn't ask how Professor Lupin knew his name.

"Fine," he muttered, embarrassed.

They didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

"All righ', you three?" Hagrid yelled over the heads of the crowd.

They waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around them was shunting them away along the platform. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students, each pulled, Harry could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when they climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.

The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw. Harry felt better since the chocolate, but still weak. Ron and Hermione kept looking at him sideways, as though frightened he might collapse again.

As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates. The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle.

After they got out of the carriage, Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the three of them joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches, and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.

The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right; Harry followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called, "Potter! Granger! I want to see you both!"

Harry and Hermione turned around, surprised. Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor House, was calling over the heads of the crowd. She was a stern looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun; her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles. Harry fought his way over to her with a feeling of foreboding: Professor McGonagall had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong.

"There's no need to look so worried — I just want a word in my office," she told them. "Move along there, Weasley."

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered Harry and Hermione away from the chattering crowd; they accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.

Once they were in her office, a small room with a large, welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned Harry and Hermione to sit down. She settled herself behind her desk and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say that you were taken ill on the train, Potter."

Before Harry could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in. Harry felt himself going red in the face. It was bad enough that

he'd passed out, or whatever he had done, without everyone making all this fuss.

"I'm fine," he said, "I don't need anything —"

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, ignoring this and bending down to stare closely at him. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall.

They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead. "He won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, he's all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —"

"I'm not delicate!" said Harry crossly. "Of course you're not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse.

"What does he need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"I'm fine!" said Harry, jumping up.

"Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry's eyes. "I've already had some," said Harry. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her course schedule, then we can go down to the feast together."

Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. He had to wait only a few minutes; then Hermione emerged looking very happy about something, followed by Professor McGonagall, and the three of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall.

* * *

"Hello, Severus."

Severus turned to see none other than Remus Lupin standing in his office. "Lupin," he sneered. "I heard you rode in on the train with the students. Finding more comparable maturity levels there?"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I rode because I wanted to see Sela safely in."

"Sela who?" Severus asked, raising a glass of Firewhisky to his lips.

"Sela Black, my goddaughter. Sirius and Lily's daughter…" Remus said slowly. "She's starting Hogwarts, as a second year."

Severus choked on his drink, and spit the liquid out forcibly. "WHAT?"

Remus looked stunned. "Oh…you don't remember any of it, do you?"

"What EXACTLY am I to remember?" Severus demanded. "When the hell did Lily have an affair with Black?"

Remus pulled out his wand slowly. "Severus, you have had your memory altered. My guess is either by your own request, or Albus did it without your consent, to stop you from doing something rash, which, understandably, you would have back then."

"Lupin!" Severus yelled. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I am far too old to allow you to subject me to more of your bloody games. You and Black and Potter had your time!"

Remus pushed Severus against the nearest wall, glass of Firewhisky falling on the floor and shattering. "Severus Snape, I am not kidding! James was married to YOU! Not Lily! Lily married Sirius, and they had Sela. Harry is James and your son!"

Severus, under normal circumstances, would have never even considered believing Lupin. But with the dreams he'd been having lately… "Then why were James and Lily in their home with Harry when the Dark Lord attacked? Why wasn't I there? Why does Harry have Lily's eyes? Why does Harry not look like me? And how the hell did she have another kid with Sirius?"

Remus relaxed his grip on Severus. "When the prophesy was made, and Albus thought it might refer to Harry, Voldemort was only aware that Harry was Lily's son, and he carried the surname of Potter. You were already spying for the light. You took the Dark Mark with the intention of spying for the light. Lily is Harry's mother, she agreed to surrogate using a potion that mixed all three of your DNA. Harry does look like you, a bit. He's taller than James was at that age, like you. I've also heard he has your temper."

Remus paused, but when Severus said nothing, he continued. "Right after Harry was born, Lily and Sirius married. Three months later, she got pregnant with Sela. By the time Sela was born, Sirius was, I guess, off working for Voldemort, instead of on missions for the light, like we thought. She had to stay with Harry, but didn't want to risk Sela being in the middle of a Death Eater attack. I agreed to take Sela to France. After James and Lily died, Albus told me to stay in France with Sela, and we did, till he asked me to come this year. I had NO IDEA until this afternoon that Harry had been raised by Lily's sister. I figured you'd raised him. Sela is really looking forward to meeting her brother."

Severus shook his head. "Let me get this straight," he said through clenched teeth. If this was all true, Severus knew that he would never have abandoned his son, which meant that Albus had removed his memory. Therefore, if this was all true, he was furious with Albus now. "James and I were…married."

"Correct," Remus nodded.

"And Harry is our son, via Lily," Severus continued.

"Yes, he is."

"And…Sela is Harry's little sister, via Lily and Black."

Remus nodded.

Severus crossed his arm. "Would you consent to come with me to speak to the Headmaster after the feast?"

Remus smiled. "Certainly."

"If you are lying," Severus said sternly, "I will hex you into next week. If you are telling the truth, I'm going hex Albus into oblivion."

Remus chuckled. "Severus, I look forward to having your friendship back. I've missed your humor."

"You're that confident that you are correct? And that in a few hours I'll suddenly remember about all the love and happiness I supposedly had?" Severus inquired, any hope of his life not changing radically dangling on an edge.

"Hey," Remus said, "I'm not the one who bloody forgot in the first place!"

* * *

It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair. Professor Flitwick, who was a tiny little wizard with a shock of

white hair, was carrying an ancient hat and a three-legged stool out of the hall.

"Oh," said Hermione softly, "we've missed the Sorting!"

New students at Hogwarts were sorted into Houses by trying on the Sorting Hat, which shouted out the House they were best suited to (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin). Professor McGonagall strode off toward her empty seat at the staff table,

and Harry and Hermione set off in the other direction, as quietly as possible, toward the Gryffindor table. People looked around at them as they passed along the back of the hall, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the dementor traveled that fast?

He and Hermione sat down on either side of Ron, who had saved them seats. "What was all that about?" he muttered to Harry.

Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off. Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. He was often described as the greatest wizard of the age, but that wasn't why Harry respected him. You couldn't help trusting Albus Dumbledore, and as Harry watched him beaming around at the students, he felt really calm for the first time since the dementor had entered the train compartment.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our

excellent feast. . . ."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore not being happy with the dementors guarding the school.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.

"On a happier note," Dumbledore continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: it was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry.

Upon more careful examination, Harry saw that Snape was actually looking right past Professor Lupin. He was looking at Dumbledore, for the most part, though his eyes were darting back and forth over half the staff, as if he was trying to decide who to poison first. One thing was certain, Harry thought; somebody really pissed off Severus Snape.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued, regaining Harry's attention as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Harry leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last to stop clapping, and as Professor Dumbledore started speaking again, they saw that Hagrid was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

After dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindors made their way up the winding staircase, through the portrait hole, and across their common room. The girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases, and Harry climbed the spiral stair with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.


	3. Chapter 2: The First Day Back

**Chapter 2: The First Day Back**

Hermione was examining her new schedule. "Oh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your schedule. Look — they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And" — Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving — " look — underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to

be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well, then —"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But —"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five gettin' everythin' ready. . . . Hope it's okay. . . . Me, a teacher . . . hones'ly. . . ." He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Ron, a note of anxiety in his voice.

* * *

True to his word, Remus Lupin was walking up to the Headmaster's office with Severus Snape. The two had agreed the night before to go right after breakfast. Severus has suggested waiting till the weekend, but Remus was adamant that this thing be cleared up as soon as possible.

"Lupin, I really don't see what the bloody rush is," Severus growled as the approached the stone gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's office.

"Wonka Bars," Remus said to the gargoyles, and then turned to Severus. "The rush is the last thirteen years you have not been there for your son. The rush is that I can't allow Sela to meet her brother until he knows why she is his sister. That little Witch is driving me nuts."

"Oh, poor Lupin," Severus drawled, stepping forward as the gargoyles moved to admit the pair. "Being bothered by a second year Gryffindor. Just wait until your first class with her. Then you'll have her plus ten more."

Remus elbowed Severus in the ribs. "Come on Slither, let's move."

Severus staggered as a flash of memory entered his mind. It almost felt like Legitimency, but not quite. A memory, his memory, of James handing him an infant and saying _'He can't tell me what he wants for breakfast, but he was having a good ol' time telling the garden snake a bit ago.'_

"What is it?" Remus said, grabbing Severus' arm.

"Harry's a Parseltongue!" he said, slapping his forehead, remembering the incident at the dueling club last year. Why hadn't he put it together then? _Harry was his son._

Remus looked startled. "I think I remember Albus saying something about that. Why does that matter?"

Severus shook his head. "I'll explain later. I want my memory restored, RIGHT NOW."

Remus shrugged, and the two walked into Dumbledore's office. "Albus?" Remus called. "Severus and I would like a word."

Albus Dumbledore came around the corner, looked at the pair, and then frowned. "Oh dear," he said. "You've started to remember, haven't you Severus?"

Severus glared. "A bit, with the help of your new Defense Professor."

Albus sat down at his desk. "I expected that to happen this year, just not this soon."

"Harry deserves to know he still has family," Remus said firmly. "He has a father and a sister, not even counting Sirius and I."

Albus frowned. "Does Sela know Sirius is her father?"

"Yes," Remus said. "I've always been honest with her."

"She was sorted to Gryffindor, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Remus confirmed.

"In Miss Weasley's dorm?"

Remus nodded. "The two have apparently become fast friends."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Great."

"Now, Severus," Albus said, turning the other man. "About your memory, I would appreciate a chance to explain before you attempt, and probably fail, to curse me into next week."

"I was thinking more like into oblivion," Severus growled. "But very well, say what you will."

Albus sighed. "After James and Lily were killed, we talked about what to do with Harry. You wanted to take him and go into hiding, you even suggested moving to France and joining Remus and Sela. However, Remus and Sela had since moved, because their secret keeper, Alice Longbottom, had been driven mad by the Crusiatus Curse, and we were uncertain as to if their location had been betrayed."

Remus nodded grimly, remember that day. Frank and Alice Longbottom had been dear friends. Alice had been there to help him so much the first few months he had Sela. Without Alice, he wouldn't have had a clue about how to raise a child.

Albus pressed on. "I knew then that so long as Harry remained in the Wizarding World, he'd be at risk. So I decided to send him to live with Lily's sister, Petunia. You, albeit with much argument, agreed to this. At that point, you and I were the only ones who knew where Harry was going to be sent. As a spy, you constantly risked exposing that to Voldemort's followers. So, YES, I did remove your memory without your consent."

Albus looked sad, but after a short pause, still continued. "I had planned on restoring your memory the year Harry came to Hogwarts, two years ago. But after what happened with Quirrill, I knew it was too risky, that Voldemort was growing in power again. Last year, when we discovered Harry inherited your ability to speak to snakes, I thought perhaps you'd figured it out yourself, and chosen not to do anything about it…"

Remus raised his eyebrows at Severus. "You're a Parseltongue?" he mouthed.

Severus nodded, and then gave his attention back to Albus, who was wrapping up. "…and then this year," Albus said. "I knew it was only a matter of time before, well, this happened."

Severus was angry, that was certain, but after years of war, he had learned that often, things like this were necessary. He did understand why Albus had done what he did. "Will you be so kind as to restore my memory now?" he whispered.

Remus smiled. "Yes, please, Albus. He was a much nicer person when he had someone to live for. Harry's year is already off to a bumpy start. He needs his father."

Albus sighed. "Very well," he said. "But after I have done so, we will need to have a talk about when, what, and how to tell young Harry."

Severus grimaced. He was quite certain that the last person Harry Potter wanted to turn out to be his father…was him. This was not going to be an easy year.

* * *

The hall was starting to empty as people headed off toward their first lesson. Ron checked his course schedule. "Divination next, guys," he said. "Let's get going."

After a long trip to the North Tower, they emerged into the strangest-looking classroom they'd had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs.

Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular alls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

Ron appeared at Harry's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers. "Where is she?" Ron said.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. "Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Harry's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl.

Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same round table. Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody in the class that had assembled said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field. . . ."

At these words, both Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn't be much help in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings.

Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at

Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball — if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it. "I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading — it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear" — she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up — "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind . . . thank you. . . ."

When Harry and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

"Right," said Ron as they both opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Harry. The heavily perfumed smoke in the room was making him feel sleepy and stupid.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.

Harry tried to pull himself together. "Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross . . ." He consulted Unfogging the Future. "That means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' — sorry about that — but there's a thing that could be the sun . . . hang on . . . that means 'great happiness' . . . so you're going to suffer but be very happy. . . ."

"You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," said Ron, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

"My turn . . ." Ron peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort."There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat," he said. "Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic. . . ." He turned the teacup the other way up. "But this way it looks more like an acorn. . . . What's that?" He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. " 'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some . . . and there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal . . . yeah, if that was its head . . . it looks like a hippo . . . no, a sheep . . ."

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. "Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch. Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon . . . my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper.

Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. They had never heard Hermione speak to a teacher like that before. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club . . . an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup. . . ."

"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"The skull . . . danger in your path, my dear. . . ."

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy . . . my poor, dear boy . . . no . . . it is kinder not to say . . . no . . . don't ask me. . . ."

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry. He could tell that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand; Dean Thomas shrugged at him and Lavender Brown looked puzzled, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!"

Harry's stomach lurched. The dog in the shadows of Magnolia Crescent . . . Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor

Trelawney's chair.

" I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike. "You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side. "It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" said Harry, taking even himself by surprise. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes . . . please pack away your things. . . ."

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear" — she pointed at Neville — "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.

Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and wasn't even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke.

Then Hermione raised her hand. "Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning.

"There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," said Harry, finally.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —" Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney —"

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney's classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch. "Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start. "Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'."

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad. "Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," he said. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

* * *

This morning, Severus had wondered how he could even be considering what Remus had said about Harry being his son to be true. This afternoon, Severus was wondering how he could have ever forgot the love he had for James and their son. Memory restored, Severus was seriously evaluating who he was, how he acted, and who he wanted to be.

Albus had agreed to let Severus tell Harry; the when and how being totally up to him. Remus had agreed to keep his mouth shut until then, and keep Sela from saying anything to Harry. Severus wanted to tell him soon, but he also needed time to digest the renewed memories and what they implied. He was a widow. He had a son. Emotions of hating James Potter had been replaced with love and mourning. Emotions of loathing Harry had been replaced with regret and pride.

It was lunch time now, and Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table with his friends. It would be another hour before Harry needed to head to his Care of Magical Creatures class, and Severus decided, in a moment of resolve, that this was going to be just as hard on Harry as it was on him, and they might as well take the journey together.

He approached the Gryffindor table with quite a bit less billowing that usual. "Mr. Potter, if you'd be so kind, I require – I would appreciate your company at the present. We need to talk, privately."

Harry looked like he'd been hit by a stunner. "Uh, alright sir." He got up, bid his friends farewell, and then followed Severus out of the Great Hall. "Where to?" he asked.

Severus sighed. "It doesn't matter, Harry, just somewhere where we will not be overheard. My office would be fine, or wherever you'd be more comfortable."

"Your office is fine, sir," Harry said, still looking quite puzzled. "What's going on, Professor? Why'd you just call me Harry?"

Severus flinched at the use of his title by his son, and his observation that it was out of character for Severus to use the boy's first name. By now, they'd arrived at Severus' office. When the door was closed behind them, Severus spoke. "Are you familiar with the Bihomonetic Potion?"

"No sir," Harry said, awkwardly standing near a bookshelf, which oddly enough, moved to reveal Severus' sitting room.

"_Open for the last Prince_," Severus hissed, in Parseltongue.

"You're a Parselmouth?" Harry said in disbelief.

"In here," Severus said, motioning to the cozy room. "Sit down."

Harry did as he was told, but his irritation at not having a clue what was going on came through. "WHAT IS GOING ON?"

"The Bihomonetic Potion is a substance that allows two males to contribute both of their DNA to an unfertilized egg in a woman's womb. This means that a gay couple, via this Potion, can have a child through a surrogate mother, and the child would share all three of their genes," Severus said curtly. The boy certainly had gotten his short temper.

Harry stared. "What does that have to do with me?"

Severus sat down across from Harry. "You are a child of such a union. You have three parents. James, Lily, and another man."

Harry's eyes got wide. "Who was the other man?" he asked weakly, but Severus was almost certain by the wary look in the boy's eye that he'd already guessed the truth.

"Me," Severus said quietly. "James and I married the week after I turned seventeen. Lily agreed to surrogate for is, using the Bihomonetic Potion, and that is how you came to be."

Harry sat back, and gulped. Severus was pretty sure he was screaming internally, but at the moment he was too scared to say anything. "Why am I just finding this out now?" Harry whispered after a bit.

"Because until this afternoon, my memory of it – being with James, having you, being happy – had been blocked," Severus explained. He didn't want to go into much detail, not now at least, but the basic facts should suffice. "I started to suspect yesterday, and went to Albus this morning."

"Why did you suspect?" Harry wanted to know.

"Because Professor Lupin, Remus, said something that jogged my memory," Severus explained. "He mentioned his goddaughter, Sela."

"Yea, she's a Gryffindor, in Ginny's year," Harry said, nodding. "People are giving her a hard time because Sirius Black is her father."

Severus nodded. "You see, Harry, Sela is Black's daughter. Your mother, Lily, married Sirius Black shortly after you were born. Sela is their child. Your half-sister."

"ANYTHING ELSE I SHOLD KNOW ABOUT?" Harry shouted, temper finally getting the better of him. "I MEAN IT'S GREAT TO KNOW I HAVE A FAMILY AND ALL BUT SORRY SIR, BEING RELATED TO YOU IS NOT EXACTLY WHAT I HAD IN MIND. THEN SELA? YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT MY MUM MARRIED THE SAME GUY WHO WOULD EVENTUALLY LEAD TO HER AND MY DAD'S DEATH? DOES SELA WANT TO KILL ME TOO?"

Severus sighed. This was why he wanted to have this conversation in private. "Sela was raised by Remus, who was one of James' best friends. Back then, Sirius Black was like a brother to James. No one knew he was working for the Dark Lord, certainly not Lily. Sela, as I understand it, is very excited to get to know her elder brother. Remus says she's a lot like your mother."

Harry crossed his arms and huffed, not saying anything. "Harry," Severus said. "You are my son, like it or not. You share my blood. You can speak to snakes, as I can. You will be taller than James, like I am. You have one hell of a temper, as I do. You are really good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, like I am. I am afraid you got James' lack of gifting for Potions, however." Severus paused. "I can understand if you need some time…to process everything. But I do want to be a part of your life. I do want to be a family. We've missed out on so much already."

* * *

Harry was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch, after his conversation with Snape – his father – that would take some getting used to. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which was alright with Harry. It was only when he spotted three only-too-familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling.

Harry was quite sure he knew what they were talking about. Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Harry had had enough unpleasant experiences in there to last him a lifetime. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it — make sure yeh can see — now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books —"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' — hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look —" He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I — I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off !"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry quietly, thinking how much hell Malfoy was going to give him when he found out the truth of Harry's birth.

Hagrid was looking downcast and Harry wanted Hagrid's first lesson to be a success.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so — so yeh've got yer books an' — an' — now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on . . ."

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him —"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry repeated. He was really not in the mood for this today.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Harry had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color:

stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer —"

No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson. If it hadn't have been for the sake that this was Hagrid's first lesson, he wouldn't be here at all. Snape had insisted he go on to class though, especially if Harry wasn't ready for everyone to know about their relation.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. "Right — who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings. The hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"I'll do it," said Harry, feeling a bit over daring.

There was an intake of breath from behind him, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!"

Harry ignored them. He climbed over the paddock fence.

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid. "Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy, now, Harry," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink. . . . Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much. . . ."

Harry's eyes immediately began to water, but he didn't shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry . . . now, bow . . ."

Harry didn't feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but he did as he was told. He gave a short bow and then looked up. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right — back away, now, Harry, easy does it —"

But then, to Harry's enormous surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Harry!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right — yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it. The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him!"

This was more than Harry had bargained for. He was used to a broomstick; but he wasn't sure a hippogriff would be quite the same. On the other hand…not like anything, good or bad, could top how his day was already going.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that. . . ."

Harry put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up. Harry wasn't sure where to hold on; everything in front of him was covered with feathers.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff 's hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry; he just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward. It was nothing like a broomstick, and Harry knew which one he preferred; the hippogriff 's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of him, catching him under his legs and making him feel he was about to be thrown off; the glossy feathers slipped under his fingers and he didn't dare get a stronger grip; instead of the smooth action of his Nimbus Two Thousand, he now felt himself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground; this was the bit Harry had been dreading; he leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling he was going to slip off over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. He just managed to hold on and push himself straight again.

"Good work, Harry!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock.

Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry watched.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful. "This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it. . . . I bet

you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes. "I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Harry saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should fire him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall. "I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"D'you think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously.

" 'Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Harry, who had had far worse injuries mended magically by the nurse.

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him. . . ."

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either.

Harry was watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Harry was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily. "Oi, what did Snape want earlier?"

"Yes, I was wondering the same thing," Hermione said, coming up behind them. "He was acting rather…odd."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He and Snape had not discussed if it was okay for Harry to tell anyone they were related, and at this point, Harry was still kind of hoping he'd wake up and it would all have been a dream. "Er…I'm not sure I'm allowed to say."

This piqued Ron and Hermione's attention. "Oh, come on mate," Ron pleaded. "Tell us!"

"He was just telling me some stuff about my parents," Harry shrugged. "Family secrets he thought I should know." Well, that was part of the truth, Harry thought.

Ron started to poke for details, but Hermione came to the rescue. Harry could always count on her to be able to tell when he just wanted to drop the topic. "Ron, it's none of our business. If and when Harry wants to share, he will."

Ron shrugged. "Fine then, we'll know in a week then. Harry has never been able to keep things from us."

Harry forced a smiled, but said nothing. In most cases, Ron was right. In this case, Harry had no bloody idea.


	4. Chapter 3: Family Meeting

**Chapter 3: Family Meeting**

"Settle down, settle down," Severus said idly, as Draco Malfoy swaggered into the third year Potions class, late, causing the class to stir. The last week had been, well, suffice to say it had been one of his more interesting weeks. After having 'the talk' with Harry, the only conversation they'd had was this morning at breakfast when Harry had asked if he could meet Sela. Harry, himself, Remus, and Sela were meeting after dinner in his quarters.

Severus watched as Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. "Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Severus said without looking up. He knew Malfoy had sat next to Harry and his friends, for the sake of milking them, but it didn't matter. Even if Harry was his son, class was class, and Draco was one of his Slytherins, and Harry was still a bloody Gryffindor.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Severus sighed, approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair. Must keep up appearances, for now anyway.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir — !"

"Now," Severus ordered in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," Severus said with a glare, but at the same time trying to look sympathetic. What would Harry prefer, he wondered? Letting his friend help Malfoy for the entire class, or sharing the burden? Severus hoped he'd chosen correctly. On the other hand, it's not like Harry would have a clue that he was trying to…help.

Harry took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

Severus rolled his eyes as a few cauldrons away, Longbottom was in trouble. Neville Longbottom regularly went to pieces in his lessons. Severus dreaded having the boy in his class more than any other student. He was a hazard to himself and everyone else in the room. Of course, Severus would never tell the boy that he was, in a round about way, afraid of him. The idea was laughable, since Neville Longbottom was obviously terrified of him.

"Orange, Longbottom," Severus observed with frustration, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville put it right —"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Severus said coldly. Merlin be damned that girl was a living encyclopedia. One day, hopefully, she'd realize that flaunting her intelligence would not buy her any favors. She might be fair company if she'd learn to do that. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Severus moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. He knew he'd scared the living daylights out of the boy, but he didn't care. One way or another, he'd make sure that either Longbottom learned how to safely brew simple potions, or he'd just leave it to someone else. Either case was just fine with Severus.

Severus listened to a group of Gryffindors talk about a sighting of Black, and carefully observed Harry's reaction to the news. Harry was, of course, now aware that Black was his little sister's father, but he was as of yet unaware of the fact that Black was his godfather.

"What are you talking about?" said Harry angrily, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's. . . ."

* * *

Harry and Ron glared as Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Hermione was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn't see.

Harry and Ron packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.

"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered to Ron as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle's mouth. "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me — yet…" Well, not counting being responsible for his parents' death, but he'd already promised Snape … er … his father that he wouldn't, if only for Sela's sake. Harry was actually kind of excited about meeting her for the first time, well officially. Tonight, he figured they'd talk about when he'd be able to acknowledge her as his sister, publicly.

"He's making it up," said Ron savagely. "He's trying to make you do something stupid. . . ."

The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

"Everyone gather 'round," Severus said, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."

The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was still thinking about meeting his sister, while Ron was seething about Snape.

"Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn't you lie, Hermione? You should've said Neville did it all by himself!"

Hermione didn't answer. Ron looked around. "Where is she?"

Harry turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.

"She was right behind us," said Ron, frowning.

Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared.

"There she is," said Harry.

Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.

"How did you do that?" said Ron.

"What?" said Hermione, joining them.

"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Harry wasn't surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked her.

"You know how many subjects I'm taking," said Hermione breathlessly. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you?"

"But —" Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today.

It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving," she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.

"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not telling us something?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. What Hermione may or may not be up to was the last thing on his mind right now. At that moment, he was having an internal struggle between hating the fact that Severus Snape, of all people, was his father (well, one of them), and loving the fact that he now had someone that, he hoped, he could call 'dad'.

* * *

Professor Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had had a few square meals.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and

stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin —"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. "This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "Waddiwasi!" and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

"Inside, please," said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in.

His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. "I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

* * *

Severus had caught Harry looking thoughtfully at him as he'd exited the staffroom. He hoped that it was a good thought, and that Harry was adjusting to the idea of them being father and son.

Right now his biggest dilemma, aside from how to handle Harry, was how to behave around others. Remembering his past had opened a new collection of emotions, that push came to shove, left him feeling a twinge of regret for giving Neville Longbottom such a hard time. It occurred to him that the boy had lost both his parents in the worst way – driven mad by the Crusiotus curse, via Beletrix Lestrange. He'd been through enough. Perhaps, he mused, the boy would improve in classes if he had more self confidence.

Alice Longbottom, as Remus had told him, had been invaluable in the beginning of his efforts to raise Lily's daughter, Sela. Not that Neville would remember, but the awkward boy and the newest Gryffindor girl had played together as infants. In some ways, Neville was much like a brother to Harry. Had Lily and James lived, Neville, Harry, and Sela would have grown up together. Lily may have even raised Neville, if Alice and Frank had still been fated to live in the shallows of madness.

Severus now found himself heading to the Headmaster's office. He had promise Albus an update on how things went with Harry, after telling the boy the truth, but he had yet to do so. He didn't have class for another forty minutes, so now seemed like a good time to do so.

"Peanut Butter Cups," Severus said to the stone Gargoyles. The guardians moved to admit him, and he walked up the stairs. Albus, it appeared, was expecting him.

"Ah, Severus," he said. "There you are."

"Headmaster," Severus said with a curt nod. "I just wanted to drop by and update you on Harry."

Albus smiled, and motioned for Severus to take a seat. "So, how did it go?"

Severus took the seat and sighed. "Well, I told him about how he was born, and the fact that I'd just remembered about it. I told him about Sela and Remus, and a bit about Lily and Black. He shouted a bit, wasn't thrilled I was his father, but by the time he left he seemed calmer. We're going to meet with Remus and Sela later, and I'm hoping that finding a sister that he doesn't…hate…will help him adapt to the concept of family."

Albus nodded. "And how are you doing?"

Severus looked downward. "I'm not sure how to act. I have these feelings that make me want to be a nicer person, but I also feel like if I do, I'll loose control of my students. Fear is an excellent means of control. It's how I've always taught."

"Not always, Severus," Albus said sadly. "That first year you taught, you were with James, and you were a good, kind teacher. Always firm, but still compassionate. It can be done."

* * *

Back in the staffroom, the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was beginning. "Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Trying to answer a question with Hermione next to him, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air, was very off-putting, but Harry had a go.

"Er — because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione put her hand down, looking a little disappointed. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused.

Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please . . . riddikulus!"

" Riddikulus!" said the class together.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.

"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful. "Professor Snape . . . hmmm . . . Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er — yes," said Neville nervously. "But — I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Professor Lupin, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled, but said, "Well . . . always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress . . . green, normally . . . and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" prompted Professor Lupin.

"A big red one," said Neville.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," said Neville uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry ' Riddikulus ' — and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well,

Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. . . ."

The room went quiet. Harry thought . . . What scared him most in the world?

His first thought was Lord Voldemort — a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a boggart-Voldemort, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind. . . .

A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak . . . a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth . . . then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning. . . . Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight. Ron was muttering to himself, "Take its legs off." Harry was sure he knew what that was about. Ron's greatest fear was spiders.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin.

Harry felt a lurch of fear. He wasn't ready. How could you make a dementor less frightening? But he didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

"Neville, we're going to back away," said Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward. . . . Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —"

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One — two — three — now!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

" R — r — riddikulus!" squeaked Neville. There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising —

" Riddikulus!" cried Parvati. A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati. Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floorlength black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face — a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Harry's head stand on end —

" Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus. The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

Crack! The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then — crack! — became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before — crack! — becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"

Dean hurried forward. Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab. " Riddikulus!" yelled Dean. There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next!" Ron leapt forward.

Crack! Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly. For a moment, Harry thought Ron had frozen. Then — " Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it

rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry' s feet. He raised his wand, ready, but —

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack!

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, " Riddikulus!" almost lazily.

Crack!

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off !" said Lupin as the boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. . . . Let me see . . . five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice . . . and five each to

Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," said Harry.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me . . . to be handed in on Monday. That will be

all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom. Harry, however, wasn't feeling cheerful. Professor Lupin had deliberately stopped him from tackling the boggart. Why? Was it because he'd seen Harry collapse on the train, and thought he wasn't up to much?

Had he thought Harry would pass out again? But no one else seemed to have noticed anything.

"Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus.

"And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.

"And Snape in that hat!"

"And my mummy!"

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" said Lavender thoughtfully.

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had, wasn't it?" said Ron excitedly as they made their way back to the classroom to get their bags.

"He seems like a very good teacher," said Hermione approvingly.

"But I wish I could have had a turn with the boggart —"

"What would it have been for you?" said Ron, sniggering. "A piece of homework that only got nine out of ten?"

* * *

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the meal to conclude. After dinner, he and Snape were going to meet with Professor Lupin and Sela…his sister. He was anxious – both excited and scared. Harry had done his best to avoid bumping into the second year Gryffindor. He wanted this family meeting to be the first time he met her.

"You done, Harry?" Ron asked, elbowing his side.

"Uh-huh," Harry replied absently, not really thinking about what Ron was saying.

"Are you ready to go?" Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Her touch brought him back to the moment. "Er…no. You guys can go on without me. I have somewhere to be after dinner."

"With who?" Ron asked.

"Professor Snape," he replied glumly. "And Professor Lupin. And Sela Black."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I don't suppose asking 'why' would do much good?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I'll explain it all soon, guys, I promise. Just swear you won't flip out…" It had just occurred to Harry that while they may be accepting of his sister, even Hermione didn't like Snape. They were not going to take it well, that Snape was his father.

"Harry, are you ready to head down?" Severus Snape's voice said from behind him.

Harry stood, and glanced back at Ron and Hermione. 'Harry?' Ron mouthed. Hermione just looked stunned.

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly. "See you guys later."

Harry and Severus headed out of the Great Hall, and down the hill towards Hogsmeade. They were meeting Remus and Sela in the Three Brooksticks.

"How was your first week, Harry?" Severus said casually.

Harry regarded him carefully. "Aside from Dementors, a guy who wants to kill me, and life altering family secrets, it's been fantastic."

Severus chuckled. "Sorry. Dumb question."

Harry did a double take. Had Snape just laughed? "You kinda look like a nice guy when you smile," he said.

Severus crossed his arms. "Harry, outside of the classroom, I am a different person. Or, I'm trying to be, anyway. Outside of school, I'm your father, you are my son and heir, and hard as I know it may be for both of us, we'll have to adjust to that fact."

"Heir?" Harry said startled. That thought had not even occurred to him.

"Yes, heir," Severus said, wrinkling his brow. "You are the last Potter, you were James' heir. You are also the last in the Prince line, the last Snape. By the way, your birth certificate does say your full name is 'Harold James Potter-Snape'."

Harry groaned. Harry was fully aware of the fact that, as the heir of the Snape line, he'd be expected to use the name 'Harry Snape', at social events, as he got older. Hermione had just been lecturing him on Wizarding Etiquette, hours before. "Fantastic. My friends are going to flip."

Severus nodded. "Yes, my parents were not the least bit thrilled when James and I eloped. Harry, sometimes we do things that we must, or because we feel we must, that others don't agree with. If your friends are true friends, they will accept you. If not, then they were not true friends."

Harry sighed. "So how long are we supposed to keep this whole thing a secret?"

At this, Severus truly smiled. "I was wondering when you are going to ask that. Harry, the day I found out you were my son, I told Dumbledore what I should have told him the day James and Lily died – that I was no longer willing to be a spy; that I needed to be here, one hundred percent, for you. I am confined to the castle, because when the Dark Lord finds out he'll want me dead, but whenever you are ready for people to know, I am ready to publicly announce that you are my son. It only stays a secret as long as you want it to."

Harry was stunned. He'd assumed that until Voldemort was totally gone, he'd have to keep this a secret. He wasn't certain he was ready for the world to know, but it did make him happy to know that when he was, he was free to. "Wow…that…that's…I appreciate that, Professor."

Severus cringed. "About that, Harry," he said. "I understand if you're not prepared to call me 'dad', but I'd really prefer something other than 'Professor', when addressing me outside of class."

Harry looked at the man carefully. "Um…is… 'Severus' alright, for now?"

Severus nodded. "Absolutely."

By now, they'd reached the Three Broomsticks. "Well, here we are," Harry said with a sigh.

"Ready?"

"No."

"Harry…"

"Okay…I'm just nervous."

Severus nodded understandingly, and opened the door. Harry had hardly caught a glace at Remus when out of nowhere he found a dark haired girl, dressed in Gryffindor cloths, wrapped around him. "Harry!"

When Harry had managed to untangle himself, he took a step back and looked at her. Sela had green eyes, the exact same green eyes he had. Lily's eyes. "Hey, Sela. Nice to meet you."

Sela, who was a bit shorter than him, smiled up at him. "You too, big brother."

Harry grinned, probably for the first time since before Severus had told him about this whole thing. He, Harry Potter – er – Snape, had a little sister. This was something he'd always dreamed of, but never in a million years expected. "Wow."

Sela giggled. "I know, right?"

"So Harry," Remus said, walking over and standing next to Severus, "What do you think? You have a family."

Harry shook his head. "It's a lot to take in, sir."

Remus smiled. "Call me 'Remus', unless we're in class. Sela is like a daughter to me, which in turn, makes you like a son."

Harry rolled his eyes. "How about more like a nephew. I've gotten enough surprise fathers this week."

Remus and Severus both laughed. "Sure, Harry, make it 'Uncle Remus' then," the Defense Professor declared.

* * *

After saying goodnight to Remus and Severus, Harry and Sela met up with Ron and Hermione who were just heading to Gryffindor Tower. When they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" said Ron curiously.

Harry peered over the heads in front of him. The portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password — excuse me, I'm Head Boy —"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tip-toe.

"What's going on?" said Ginny, who had just arrived. "Oh, Sela, I see you've met Harry Potter."

"Yea," Sela said, winking at Harry. The two had agreed to tell Ron, Hermione and Ginny, that weekend, that they were brother and sister. They didn't want to say anything right before bedtime, and Fridays were always really busy. They planned on Friday night or Saturday morning.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer to see what the trouble was.

"Oh, my —" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice. It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees.

Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."


	5. Chapter 4: The Map

**HELLO! Thank you all for the reviews so far. I must say, one would think that editing JKR's story, and merely adding in scenes, would be easy. NOT SO! This is actually one of the harder projects I've ever worked on. I have to decide what to cut, what to keep, how to edit scenes I keep, in order for them to fit into the story. Much more difficult than just writing as it comes to my head. I mean, people say writing cannon is difficult, well writing this was is like writing double cannon. LOL **

**I'm having fun, but still, you have to appreciate how detail oriented this is. Okay, I'm done...without further ado...  
**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Map**

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing . . ." One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags. "Sleep well," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouted Percy. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon," Ron said to Harry and Hermione; they seized three sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner. "Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered anxiously.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," said Ron.

"It's very lucky he picked tonight, you know," said Hermione as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk. "The one night we weren't in the tower. . . ."

"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," said Ron. "Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here."

Hermione shuddered.

Just then Harry heard sturdy footsteps coming their way. He turned to see Severus walking toward them. "Hi Professor," Harry said.

Severus nodded. "I just wanted to make certain you were alright. As soon as the staff is done sweeping the castle again, myself and Professor Lupin are going to come back here and stand guard with the Head Boy and Girl. "If you need anything, we'll be here."

"Yes sir," Harry said, knowing without looking that Ron and Hermione were very confused at the moment. Why – he imagined they were wondering – would Professor Snape be showing actual concern for Harry's safety.

No sooner had Severus walked away than Sela and Ginny came over. "Hey Harry," Sela said. "I saw Severus talking to you. Wanna just tell them now?"

Harry took a deep breath." I guess we might as well. I'm not sleepy."

"Tell us what?" Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all asked together.

"Do any of you know what the Bihomonetic Potion is?" Harry asked.

Hermione, of course, was the only one who did. "Oh dear," she said. "It's Professor Snape, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, trying not to look totally happy, though the more he thought about it, the less he cared that Severus had been mean to him, and the more it mattered that they were a family.

Ron and Ginny still looked perplexed. "So what is the Bihomonetic Potion?" Ginny asked.

"It's a potion that allows three people, two males and one female, to all give their DNA to a kid," Harry explained. "I've recently found out that I have three parents. James and Lily, and Severus Snape."

Ron coughed. "WHAT?" he yelped, causing a few people to look their way.

Ginny, who did find this interesting, still didn't understand what this had to do with herself and Sela. "What does that have to do with Sela?" she asked.

Harry sighed, and nodded for Sela to tell her part of the store. "Well," she said, "After Harry was born, Lily, who was only really a surrogate for Severus and James, went on and married my dad. Harry is my brother, through a shared mum."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Wow."

"Wow?" Ron snapped. "Bloody creepy is more like it. Snape? Your dad, Harry? He's an arse! You've got to be pretty pissed about all this!"

Harry shrugged. "He's not so bad, outside of class. And you've got to realize that before start of term, his memory of it all, being with James and having me, was all blocked. So he's going to change, be nicer, from now on. He wants to have a family. Just like I do."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, I am a little stunned, but I'm happy for you all the same."

Ron shook his head. "You're stunned?" he asked. "Harry's the one who just found out that git is his father."

Harry glared at Ron for a moment, making it perfectly clear that he wanted Ron's support, not his slander. Finally, Ron shrugged. "If you're happy, I'm happy," he said. "But if Snape turns out to be a rotten dad, I'll hex him. You're my best mate, Harry, and I don't want you to see you hurt."

"Why Ronald," Hermione said, smiling. "That was a very mature thing to say."

"It's been known to happen," Ron said, as if he was shocked Hermione would expect anything less.

* * *

It was that time of month again. Remus Lupin was being escorted down to the Shrieking Shack by Severus at the moment, in preparation for his monthly turning; into a werewolf. This was the first time he'd transformed at Hogwarts since he'd graduated, and he was rather grumpy at the prospect. The Shrieking Shack was full of terrible memories, and he was not overly inclined to relive them.

"What's the matter, Lupin?" Severus asked.

"Just not looking forward to transforming in the Shack again," he replied. "Too many bad memories."

Severus grunted. "Bad memories? For you? You think I enjoy coming down here? To the place where I almost died? Where you almost killed me?"

Remus was not in the mood for this. "Lay off Severus. I'm not the idiot who fell for Sirius' prank. And as for my part in it, you of all people should know I had no control over that situation," he growled.

"Did you take the Wolfsbane Potion?" Severus asked sharply, changing the subject.

"Yes," Remus replied curtly. "Disgusting shit."

"It makes the transformation easier," Severus pointed out.

"I know," Remus sighed. "I'm sorry Severus, I didn't mean to take it out on you. We're friends, and I appreciate that you make the potion for me."

Severus, mood obviously soured, just shrugged. They had arrived at the entrance to the tunnel which led to the Shrieking Shack. "I will return to retrieve you tomorrow morning. I have to get back in time to teach _your_ class."

Remus, rather annoyed with Severus, nodded curtly and walked briskly into the tunnel. He was more than ready for Severus to finish adjusting to being the good man he'd forgotten he'd become. Right now, he was a big pain in the arse.

* * *

Harry skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, pulled the door open, and dashed inside. "Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I —"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk; it was Severus.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But Harry didn't move. "Where's Professor Lupin?" he asked, taking note of his father's obviously bad mood.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Severus sneered. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

But Harry stayed where he was. "What's wrong with him?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. He was well aware of the fact that Severus was unsure of how to transition between teacher and father, but Harry sure wished he'd get on with figuring it out. It was hard for him to accept Severus Snape as his father while he continued to be a jerk to him in classes.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start —"

"Be quiet," Severus said coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Severus looked more menacing than ever. Harry, having gotten to know Severus a little bit over the last few weeks, was absolutely sure that Dean had just made things much worse.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you — I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss —"

Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered.

"— werewolves," Severus finished.

"But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks —"

"Miss Granger," Severus said in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. Harry was rather annoyed with him by now. He was supposed to have changed…or be changing. But right now he was acting like his usual dungeon bat self. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between —"

"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on —"

"Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are. . . ."

"Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf —"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once.

Harry was stunned. This was beyond the normal Snape-git-person. Something was wrong. As much as he was furious that Snape had publicly humiliated Hermione, some inner tug reminded him that the man was his father, and if something was the matter with him, he cared enough to hold off judgment. On the other hand, Harry had just told Ron, Hermione, and Ginny about Severus being his father only last night, and their first 'new Severus Snape' impression was pretty poor.

Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

The class knew instantly he'd gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.

Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back. "You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

Harry and Hermione waited outside the classroom door for Ron. He came out the door five minutes later, in a towering rage. "D'you know what that YOUR FATHER is making me do?"

"Ron!" Hermione yelped. "Hush! Harry doesn't want others to know yet!"

"What is he making you do?" Harry said glumly.

"I've got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. Without magic!" Ron was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. "Why couldn't Black have hidden in Snape's office, eh? He could have finished him off for us!"

* * *

Severus slumped at the desk the minute Ron Weasley walked out the door. After only a few minutes of silence, he heard the door open again. "What do you want?" he groaned, not even looking up.

"To talk to you."

Severus looked up. Harry. "I suppose you are going to try to talk me out of punishing your friends," he spat out.

Harry shrugged. "I'm a little pissed you gave Hermione such a hard time for knowing the answer to your question, but I don't blame you for giving Ron detention. He was out of line."

Severus grunted. "So what do you want, Harry?"

"I said – to talk to you," Harry answered, sitting on the corner of the desk. "You seemed out of sorts today. Kind of upset."

Severus looked up. He was impressed that Harry was that perceptive. Lily had been somewhat empathic. Severus wondered if the boy in front of him had inherited that trait. "I had a bit of an argument with Lupin this morning."

"I thought he was sick." Harry said.

"He is," Severus said. "He'll be fine in a couple days."

"And what about you?" Harry said, cocking his head sideways. "When will you be okay?"

Severus laughed bitterly, reflecting on his argument with Remus, and his overall miserable life – excluding the few years he was happy with James – and shook his head. "Harry, I'll be okay round about the time I fall in love again. Which is probably never. But I will try to get better…for you. I just don't see 'okay' in my future, kiddo."

* * *

They were at the height of the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor game. The weather was miserable and Harry was currently racing to high altitudes after the fleeing Snitch. Suddenly, ice started to form on his broom, and the frigid air turned twice as cold. Before he'd had time to think, Harry had taken his eyes off the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water were rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again. . . . Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head . . . a woman . . . "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl . . . stand aside, now. . . ."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —"

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain. . . . What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her. . . . She was going to die. . . . She was going to be murdered. . . .

He was falling, falling through the icy mist.

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy. . . ."

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.

* * *

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought he was dead for sure."

"But he didn't even break his glasses."

Harry could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he'd got there, or what he'd been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scariest . . . the scariest thing . . . hooded black figures . . . cold . . . screaming . . .Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

"Harry!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. "How're you feeling?"

It was as though Harry's memory was on fast forward. The lightning — the Snitch — and the dementors . . .

"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell off," said Fred. "Must've been — what — fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into Harry like a stone.

"We didn't — lose?"

"Diggory got the Snitch," said George. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square . . . even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. Fred grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly.

"C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before."

"There had to be one time you didn't get it," said George.

"It's not over yet," said Fred. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin . . ."

"Hufflepuff 'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw . . ."

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff . . ."

"It all depends on the points — a margin of a hundred either way —"

Harry lay there, not saying a word. They had lost . . . for the first time ever, he had lost a Quidditch match.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry's bed.

"Professor Dumbledore was really angry, and Professor Snape looked absolutely terrified," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen either of them like that before. Dumbledore ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away. . . . Dumbledore was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him —"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were . . ."

His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the dementors had done to him . . . about the screaming voice. He was also pondering Dumbledore being angry, and Severus being scared. It was odd to think of either emotion coming out of them. Harry looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?"

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.

"Er —"

"What?" said Harry, looking from one to the other.

"Well . . . when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly.

"And?"

"And it hit — it hit — oh, Harry — it hit the Whomping Willow."

Harry's insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.

"And?" he said, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It — it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," said Hermione in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

He didn't have time to mourn the broom properly, because just then, Severus Snape came slowly into the room. Upon seeing Ron and Hermione, Severus look at Harry. "Do they know?" he asked, voice cracking as if he was holding back tears.

Harry knew what he meant. "Yeah, they know you're my father."

The next instant, Severus bounded over to Harry's bed, and pulled the boy into a strong hug. "Don't EVER do that to me again, Harry," he said, no longer holding back the tears. "You scared the hell out of me. I just found you, I don't want to loose you again."

Harry was stunned, but returned the hug. "It's okay. I'm fine. I'll be careful."

Severus let go of Harry, and held onto his shoulders. At this point, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione looked totally stunned. Hell, he was stunned, to see Severus so open with his emotions.

"Harry," Severus said with feeling. "I love you."

Harry gave Severus a smile. "I love you too…dad."

* * *

"I heard about the match," Lupin said to Harry, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No," said Harry. "The tree smashed it to bits."

Lupin sighed. "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it.

No broomstick would have a chance."

"Did you hear about the dementors too?" said Harry with difficulty.

Lupin looked at him quickly. "Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time . . . furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds. . . . I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," said Harry. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just — ?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Harry's mind. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."

A ray of wintery sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's gray hairs and the lines on his young face. "Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself . . . soul-less and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

"When they get near me —" Harry stared at Lupin's desk, his throat tight. "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."

Lupin put his hand on Harry's shoulder. There was a moment's silence, then —

"Why did they have to come to the match?" said Harry bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up. . . . I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement . . . emotions running high . . . it was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," Harry muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Harry said slowly. "He got away. . . ."

Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.

"Yes," he said, straightening up, "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible. . . . Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long. . . ."

"You made that dementor on the train back off," said Harry suddenly.

"There are — certain defenses one can use," said Lupin. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defenses?" said Harry at once. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry . . . quite the contrary. . . ."

"But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them —"

Lupin looked into Harry's determined face, hesitated, then said, "Well . . . all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

Harry nodded. "Severus says he wants me to come to his house for the Holiday."

"Don't you mean to say 'dad'?" Lupin said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

Harry grinned. "He told you?"

Remus nodded. "You have no idea what that meant to him, Harry."

* * *

The next afternoon, Harry found himself being ushered into an empty classroom by Fred and George Weasley. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry.

"Early Christmas present for you, Harry," he said. Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry, suspecting one of

Fred and George's jokes, stared at it.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly.

"It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours. You know, between Black being on the loose and all the other trouble on your plate."

"Anyway, we know it by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."

"And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?" said Harry.

"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."

"Well . . . when we were in our first year, Harry — young, carefree, and innocent —"

Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.

"— well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason —"

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual —"

"— detention —"

"— disembowelment —"

"— and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."

"Don't tell me —" said Harry, starting to grin.

"Well, what would you've done?" said Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed — this."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?"

"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

"You're winding me up," said Harry, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment.

"Oh, are we?" said George.

He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

_are proud to present_

_**THE MARAUDER'S MAP**_

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing.

Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room.

And as Harry's eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else. This map showed a set of passages he had never entered.

"There are seven in all." George said, noting Harry's observation of the passages. "Now, Filch knows about these four" — he pointed them out — "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in — completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that oneeyed old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map.

"We owe them so much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly.

"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it —"

"— or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly.

"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."

"So, young Harry," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself."

"Happy Christmas Harry," George smirked. The twins then left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. Harry stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. He watched the tiny ink Mrs. Norris turn left and pause to sniff at something on the floor.

* * *

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Next chapter is called "More Truths". How will Harry react when he finds out that Severus has more secrets that he's hiding?  
**


	6. Chapter 5: More Truth

**New chapter! This is where things will begin to really alter from the original story, so far as plot points go. I'd really like to hear what you all think of the direction I'm taking this, especially about the very last segment in this chapter. **

**Read and review! Thanks! -MNA-  
**

* * *

**Chapter 5: More Truth**

Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Harry. He edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined the look that would spread over Dudley's piggy face if he could see where Harry was now.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbert balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were "Special Effects" sweets: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ("breathe fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice ("hear your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermint creams shaped like toads ("hop realistically in the stomach!"), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.

Harry squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop (Unusual Tastes). Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Harry sneaked up behind them.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying.

"How about these?" said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose.

"Definitely not," said Harry.

Ron nearly dropped the jar.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing here? How — how did you — ?"

"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!"

" 'Course I haven't," said Harry. He dropped his voice so that none of the sixth years could hear him and told them all about the Marauder's Map.

"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron, outraged. "I'm their brother!"

"But Harry isn't going to keep it!" said Hermione, as though the idea were ludicrous. "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?"

"No, I'm not!" said Harry.

"Are you mad?" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?"

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!"

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!"

"He can't be getting in through a passage," said Harry quickly.

"There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three — one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. One of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through — well — it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there . . ."

Harry hesitated. What if Black did know the passage was there? Ron, however, cleared his throat significantly, and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.

**— by order of —**

**THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

_Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._

_Merry Christmas!_

"See?" said Ron quietly. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!"

"Yes, but — but —" Hermoine seemed to be struggling to find another problem. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. Professor Dumbledore said he wasn't allowed because of Sirius Black being on the loose. If anyone finds out, he'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet — what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?"

"He'd have a job spotting Harry in this," said Ron, nodding through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow.

"Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry deserves a break."

Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried.

"Are you going to report me?" Harry asked her, grinning.

"Oh — of course not — but honestly, Harry —"

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven — it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick." Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box. "Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?"

When Ron and Hermione had paid for all their sweets, the three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside. Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

Harry shivered; unlike the other two, he didn't have his cloak. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves.

"That's the post office —"

"Zonko's is up there —"

"We could go up to the Shrieking Shack —"

"Tell you what," said Ron, his teeth chattering, "shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn. It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red.

Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer. "Merry Christmas!" he said happily, raising his tankard.

Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside. A sudden breeze ruffled his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Harry looked over the rim of his tankard and choked.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak — Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

In an instant, Ron and Hermione had both placed hands on the top of Harry's head and forced him off his stool and under the table. Dripping with butterbeer and crouching out of sight, Harry clutched his empty tankard and watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move toward the bar, pause, then turn and walk right toward him.

Somewhere above him, Hermione whispered, "Mobiliarbus!" The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Staring through the dense lower branches, Harry saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.

Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice. "A small gillywater —"

"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Four pints of mulled mead —"

"Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella —"

"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us. . . ."

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Harry watched the glittering heels march away and back again. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his throat. Why hadn't it occurred to him that this was the last weekend of term for the teachers too? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if he wanted to return to school tonight. . . . Hermione's leg gave a nervous twitch next to him.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?" came Madam Rosmerta's voice.

Harry saw the lower part of Fudge's thick body twist in his chair as though he were checking for eavesdroppers. Then he said in a quiet voice, "What else, m'dear, but Sirius lack? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?"

"I did hear a rumor," admitted Madam Rosmerta.

"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" said Professor McGonagall exasperatedly.

"Do you think Black's still in the area, Minister?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"I'm sure of it," said Fudge shortly.

"You know that the dementors have searched the whole village twice?" said Madam Rosmerta, a slight edge to her voice. "Scared all my customers away. . . . It's very bad for business, Minister."

"Rosmerta, m'dear, I don't like them any more than you do," said Fudge uncomfortably. "Necessary precaution . . . unfortunate, but there you are. . . . I've just met some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore — he won't let them inside the castle grounds."

"I should think not," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?"

"Hear, hear!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, whose feet were dangling a foot from the ground.

"All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are here to protect you all from something much worse. . . . We all know what Black's capable of. . . ."

"Do you know, I still have trouble believing it," said Madam Rosmerta thoughtfully. "Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought . . . I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," said Fudge gruffly.

"The worst he did isn't widely known."

"The worst?" said Madam Rosmerta, her voice alive with curiosity. "Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?"

"I certainly do," said Fudge.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Harry dropped his tankard with a loud clunk. Ron kicked him.

"Precisely," said Professor McGonagall. "Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers —"

"I dunno," chuckled Hagrid. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," said Fudge. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Another thing that isn't widely known is that Lily and James weren't actually married. It was a cover, to protect Harry. Lily was only a surrogate for James and his parter."

"James was gay?" Rosmerta gasped.

Fudge nodded. "Harry - I've only recently found this out myself – was conceived using the Bihomonetic Potion. His other father is Severus Snape."

Hagrid gaped. "SNAPE? Ya' must be jokin'!"

Fudge shrugged. "Apparently Dumbledore blocked his memory of all of it, so Severus would keep working for him and not bother to look after poor Harry."

Professor McGonagall looked outraged. "Albus had NO right to do that! Harry needed a parent. I remember when Severus started teaching here. He was distant, of course, but happy. After James and Lily died he just got angry, and stayed that way. I always assumed it was because he'd loved Lily and she was dead, but if he cared for James…yet if all he remembered was hating James and loving Lily…" Minerva sighed. "It's no wonder Severus has been so unhappy, all these years."

"It is my understanding that Lily actually married Black, after Harry was born," Fudge went on. "They had a daughter together, who was raised by Remus Luipin. Black was named godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Worse even than that, m'dear. . . ." Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters, meaning James and Lily, along with little Harry, knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James, Severus, and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.

"An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "James Potter told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself . . . and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the

Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" gasped Madam Rosmerta. "He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements," said Professor McGonagall darkly. "Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who."

"But James Potter insisted on using Black?"

"He did, or so we think. There was some rumor of Pettigrew being secret keeper, but I doubt Lily would have agreed to that." said Fudge heavily. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed —"

"Black betrayed them?" breathed Madam Rosmerta. "He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death.

But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it —"

"Filthy, stinkin' turncoat!" Hagrid said, so loudly that half the bar went quiet.

"Shh!" said Professor McGonagall.

"I met him!" growled Hagrid. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James's house after they was killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead . . . an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I

did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid roared.

"Hagrid, please!" said Professor McGonagall. "Keep your voice down!"

"How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him —' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. 'I won't need it anymore,' he says. I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him. But what if I'd given Harry to him, eh? I bet he'd've pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes' friends' son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore. . . ."

A long silence followed Hagrid's story. Then Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!"

"Alas, if only we had," said Fudge bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew — another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew . . . that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Madam Rosmerta.

"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I — how I regret that now. . . ." She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses — Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later — told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens. . . ."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy . . . foolish boy . . . he was always hopeless at dueling . . . should have left it to the Ministry. . . ."

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed around with wands — I'd've ripped him limb — from — limb," Hagrid growled.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Hagrid," said Fudge sharply. "Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I — I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him . . . a heap of bloodstained robes and a few — a few fragments —"

Fudge's voice stopped abruptly. There was the sound of five noses being blown.

"Well, there you have it, Rosmerta," said Fudge thickly. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh. "Is it true he's mad, Minister?"

"I wish I could say that he was," said Fudge slowly. "I certainly believe his master's defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man — cruel . . . pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them . . . but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored — asked if I'd finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the dementors seemed to be having on him — and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night."

"But what do you think he's broken out to do?" said Madam Rosmerta. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his — er — eventual plan," said Fudge evasively. "But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing . . . but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again. . . ."

There was a small chink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass.

"You know, Cornelius, if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back up to the castle," said Professor McGonagall.

One by one, the pairs of feet in front of Harry took the weight of their owners once more; hems of cloaks swung into sight, and Madam Rosemerta's glittering heels disappeared behind the bar.

The door of the Three Broomsticks opened again, there was another flurry of snow, and the teachers had disappeared.

"Harry?" Ron's and Hermione's faces appeared under the table. They were both staring at him, lost for words.

Harry was fighting back the tears. He knew that Black had been a friend of his dad's, of James, and he knew that his mum had married the man. Then came Sela. But finding out that Black was his godfather was one step too much to handle.

* * *

Severus was in his office, grading papers, when Harry stormed in. "Can we talk?" the boy said sharply.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Severus said, getting up. He could tell Harry was upset. It would take a fool to not see the boy was fighting an emotional outburst.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BLACK IS MY GODFATHER?" Harry let out.

"Ah…" Severus said. "That."

"WHY!" Harry demanded.

"Harry, calm down," Severus ordered sternly. "I know you're upset, but you don't have to yell."

Harry flopped down on a chair. "Sorry. I just don't know why you left out such an important detail when you told me everything else."

Severus sighed. "Harry, I knew it would upset you. I planned to tell you in time, when you'd had a chance to adjust to everything else. The last few months have been hard for you – life changing. Remus and I discussed it, and because we wanted you to get to know Sela without any further bitterness concerning her father, we decided it best to leave out that detail. Can you understand that? Can you understand we were just trying to make it easier for you to develop a relationship with your sister?"

Harry thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry I yelled, dad."

Severus smiled. It felt so good to hear Harry call him that. After the incident in the Hospital Wing, Harry had gone on calling him 'dad' in private, as if it was the way it had always been. "Anything else you want to talk about, son?"

Harry shook his head. "Mostly I guess I just needed to vent."

Severus nodded. "Run along then. I know you have the rest of the day free, why don't you go see if you could spend some time with your sister?"

* * *

Harry took Severus' advice and went to look for Sela. He found her doing homework in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Hey, why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"

Sela looked up. "Harry. I'm not allowed any more than you are. Difference is that I obey the rules."

Harry looked guilty. "Uh, why aren't you allowed?"

"Same reason that you aren't," Sela shrugged. "Sirius – my father. He might kill you, he might kidnap me."

"Oh, reckon I never thought of that."

Sela closed her book and stuffed her quill and parchment into the bag at her side. "Fancy sneaking down to the kitchens and getting some sweets?"

Harry grinned. "Sure. Actually, I was thinking…maybe we could start spending Saturdays together more often…get to know each other."

Sela smiled broadly. "Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Severus nodded curtly to Remus when he bumped into the other man on his way up to Albus' office. "You've been summoned as well, I presume?" Severus inquired.

"Yup," Remus said, matching Severus' stride. "Any idea what he wants to discuss?"

"He told me it was about Quirril – the DA professor during Harry's first year that Voldemort possessed."

"He told _me_ that it was about Lucius," Remus supplied.

"Sounds like trouble," Severus sighed.

By then, the pair had arrived, gone up the stairway, and entered the Headmaster's office. "You wanted to see us, Albus?" Remus said.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, looking up from a battered looking book. "Come in Remus, Severus."

"So what connection have you found between Quirril and Malfoy?" Severus demanded. If he didn't get this conversation started, Albus would beat around the bush for a quarter hour before he finally got to the point.

Albus smiled. "Severus, you remember that Quirril was…possessed by Voldemort, yes?"

Severus nodded, and Remus paid close attention.

"I have reason to believe that he was not actually possessed by Voldemort…but rather a fragment of Voldemort's soul," Albus said carefully.

Remus hissed. "Horcrux."

Albus nodded, looking downcast. "That it what I believe."

Severus crossed his arms. "Astonishing as it sounds, I am not familiar with that term."

Remus shivered. "Severus, a Horcrux is a fragment of a person's soul that is contained in another living being, or in some cases, in very magical objects. A Horcrux can only be made by an extremely complex series of dark curses, coupled with a murder. Often, people who have been turned into a Horcrux don't even know that there is part of someone else's soul in them."

Albus furthered the explanation. "In order to destroy a Horcrux, the person containing the fragmented soul must be killed. And the person to do the killing must have used Legitimency on the Horcrux creator, in this case, Voldemort. The carriers are not able to harm themselves, but have considerable free will otherwise."

"What does that have to do with Lucius?" Severus asked.

"During Harry's second year," Albus said, "The Chamber of Secrets was opened via this diary." Albus help up the book he'd been holding. "It contained a small fragment of Voldemort's soul. I was already suspicious that Voldemort had made a Horcrux, because I didn't think he would have been reckless enough to put his entire life in the hands of Quirril. The diary did not contain enough of a fragment to make a full Horcrux, which led be to suspect that whoever Voldemort used as a Horcrux had realized that they'd been used that way, and was trying to expel the fragment. Obviously, the attempt failed."

"Who had the diary before it came into Miss Weasley's hands?" Severus inquired.

Albus sighed. "Lucius Malfoy. I strongly suspect he is the other part of that particular Horcrux."

"Merlin's beard, Albus," Remus exclaimed. "How many do you think he made?"

Albus looked incredibly grave. "The only mark in this diary," he said, handing it to Remus, "is _three of seven_."

Severus looked sick. "You think that there are, Quirril and Lucius aside, FIVE more people walking around with bits of Voldemort residing inside them?"

"Four," Albus corrected. "Voldemort himself would have to be the seventh."

"So," Remus said, looking thoughtful. "Quirril, Malfoy, and Voldemort: That leaves four more Horcruxes. Any idea who they are?"

Albus sat down at his desk. "I have a few guesses, but I will not say unless I am sure."

"Do you know anyone alive who has accessed Voldemort's mind?" Severus inquired, a feeling of dread rising in his chest.

"Just one," Albus said, looking sympathetic. "The scar on Harry's forehead is an open bridge of Legitimency between himself and Voldemort. Harry is the only person alive who can destroy Voldemort."

* * *

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